


Spy Me a River

by charliedontsurf, msculper



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Double Agents, F/M, Spying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-04-11 09:43:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4430507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliedontsurf/pseuds/charliedontsurf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/msculper/pseuds/msculper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four years into the bloody war for American Independence, Elizabeth Crawley joins her country men and women in the fight to be free. Unbeknownst to her friends Caleb Brewster and Benjamin Tallmadge, she becomes one of General Washington's most important spies and a British officer's most trusted adviser.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This begins right after the end of season 2 and ignores a lot of historical fact. Anything for fiction, right? Anyways, please enjoy!

Bullets screamed by, an unfaltering storm flying through the forest. My legs carried me as fast as they could, swerving around trees to avoid getting hit by either army. I couldn't decide whether or not it was a good thing that I had thrown on my dark green dress that morning when I heard the hoof beats of a galloping horse approach. Mumbling obscenities under my breath, I pushed faster. My foot caught on a root, and I felt myself fall. Just as I realized the ground was looming closer, a grip tightened on my upper arm and yanked me upward. I landed with a jolt in front of the saddle on a grey, dappled horse. The hemline of my skirts crept up over my knees in a most unladylike manner, I was sure, but we, myself and whoever had abducted me, were moving far too fast for me to do much of anything about it. Looking from side to side, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Blue. A brilliant, unwavering blue. 

My captor was a patriot, so it seemed. I allowed myself a single sigh of relief and relaxed against the rider's chest. Even as we bounced and flew along, I could tell he was muscular and held himself confidently. The quiet stillness of his breath echoed in my ear while we zigged and zagged through the forest. Both enemy and what was now friendly fire still crackled around us. It was a miracle neither of us had gotten hit, until I heard a yelp of pain over my shoulder. Splendid. Though I expected to stop or slow down, we seemed to go even faster after the rider was somehow injured.

We rode for what seemed like hours. Suddenly, I realized the thunder of war was behind us. A bright light shone down into my eyes. The sun, I'd forgotten about that. My arms were so tightly crossed across my chest I didn't dare raise one to shield my eyes and throw off my balance. The wood around us was thinning out into what looked to be a clearing. I hoped to God this rider knew where he was going, if he was even still conscious. As the clearing came into focus, I saw several tents scattered around a few larger ones. He had, predictably, taken me to his camp.

"Oi!" rang through the clearing, sending up a few birds in its wake. A larger set man with a short dusting of a curly beard and a wide brimmed hat ran at us out of a nearby tent. When he got closer and slowed down, I took in his boyish eyes and smile, as well as his long leather jacket and huge boots, even in the Summer heat. He addressed the man seated behind me as he patted the horse on the nose. "Idda gone with ya if Idda known we'd be bringin' home prizes, Tallboy."

"Caleb, you can't talk about women like that, particularly when they can _hear you_ ," a captivating, no-nonsense voice answered as the rider slid to the ground. The movement and voice caught my attention. I turned. 

The long, white plume of his helmet fluttered over his straight stance. He was undeniably handsome, even though he looked uncomfortable, frustrated, and exhausted, with blue eyes still shining from the rush of battle and thick, dark eyebrows. Under the helmet, I could see strands of dark blond hair tucked behind his ears and into a braid. Caleb hugged him, the wounded rider's wince going unnoticed by the bearded man. My rider seemed to remember me at last with a glance over his friend's soldier. He turned towards me, reaching up to grab under my arms and help me down. Nearly dropping me, he shifted his hand to his elbow. I took the opportunity to situate my petticoats.

His friend rushed forward in concern. He ripped the rider's hand away, revealing a bloodied elbow. "Get to the surgeons, I'll take care of the girl, Bennie." My helmeted rescuer cast a glance at his friend, to me, and back to the man before trudging away between the tents. "Caleb Brewster, atcher service," the large man directed at me with a tiny bow. 

"Miss Elizabeth Crawley, at yours," I responded with a clumsy curtsy.

"Welcome to the finest Continental camp this side of the Atlantic, Miss Elizabeth." He grabbed the reins of the horse and started walking into camp, gesturing with his head to follow. "I'll be your guide, 'til you know where everything is." Looking at me to confirm my intent to stay, he continued, "Lucky you, I'm the damn best guide in the army." I laughed louder, I'm sure, than I should have as he brought me around to all the must-sees.

He lead me around to the stables to drop off the grey horse. The constant whinnying and movement of the other officer's horses made me nervous, which Mr. Brewster picked up on quite easily. "Not a horse person, eh?"

"Nope." I quietly replied, wrapping my arms around myself. "I never learned to ride, and I'm honestly terrified." I started inching away from the horses as my guide finished tying up and brushing down my rider's. 

"Maybe we'll getcha in the saddle one of these days," he ventured, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"Mr. Brewster, may I be so bold as to ask you to take me to his Excellency's headquarters?" He looked at me through narrowed, assessing eyes. "Well, shouldn't he care that the girl one of his soldiers found running through a battle isn't a Tory spy, or an assassin? I could be the Queen of England, for all he knows, or anybody, really..." I looked at him with pseudo-innocence until he boisterously guffawed. 

"Alright, Lizzie. Washington may only get one chance to meet the Queen, ya know."

\--

General Washington's tent was neat. Stacks of paper, while obviously in use, sat lined up almost perfectly on his desk. His bed in the corner was fully made, the dust grey blanket without a wrinkle. So he ran a tight camp: I liked that. 

His dark, calculating eyes took in every detail from my unkempt hair, to my mud stained hem, and every loose pin between. I looked steadily back at him, my chin extended in resolve, as Caleb explained the situation in rather more informal, vulgar language than what should have been appropriate. "Thank you, Lieutenant Brewster, you may leave us." The General's deep, steady voice dismissed Caleb, after a moment. He left without another word, although he did manage to sneak in a quick wink to me.

"Thank you for hearing me out, sir." I nervously ventured. He gave a stiff nod. For the great leader I'd heard he was, General Washington seemed awfully on edge, but I kept talking. "I've been recruited on behalf of a Major John Andre in York City to sneak into your camp and gather intelligence. Unbeknownst to him, I have strong Patriot intentions and none of retrieving honest information for him, sir." The name Andre elicited a barely detectable change in the General's demeanor, but I wouldn't dream of mentioning anything of it. He spent several seconds mulling it over before he responded. 

"Your concern and offer of help are greatly appreciated, Miss -"

"Crawley, sir. Miss Elizabeth Crawley."

"Miss Crawley, thank you. We will work out a system before you are due back in New York, but until then, it is best if you make yourself useful somewhere else in camp. Perhaps the launderers will take your help for the time being. You can find someone to take up lodging with you, and I will send for you upon my earliest convenience." He seemed to be thinking out loud to himself until he looked me square in the eye. "Good luck, Miss Crawley."

"Thank you, sir."

 


	2. Chapter 2

I walked into my small tent to see my best friend gingerly pulling on a shirt with a bandage wrapped around his elbow, a small blotch of blood beginning to seep through. "Where've you been?" he managed to force out with obvious strain.

"Showin' Blondie around camp for ya." I winked as Ben scowled and picked up his waistcoat. "What? You pick up a girl in the middle of the forest an' left her with me. I didn't even make fun of ya, you ungrateful shite."

Ben turned from our small mirror, his cravat now perfectly tied. "That's a first."

"We gotta be careful with this one, Tallboy, she's gotta personality." I watched my best friend shrug. "Almost reminds me of Annie when we were kids."

"She's just that, Caleb. A kid." I still looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finally admit he had human urges, like the rest of us. "Look. When I find the right girl, I'll settle down. And that's not going to be in the army, Caleb, that's not what this is for."

"Alright Bennie," I surrendered with a forced laugh and raised hands. We sat down across from each other on our respective beds. "You've gotta admit she's a looker." The snicker and head shake was enough to please me, for now.

\--

I ended up in a tent with three other women, all the wives of soldiers who decided to tag along. They seemed nice enough, but all particularly distant from each other and from me. Mrs Warren was the nicest in an almost maternal way, while Mrs Morris and Mrs Puckett kept to themselves. I was, at 17, naturally the youngest, so the other women responsible for laundry sent me to deliver clean shirts and uniforms.

By the middle of the afternoon, men began straggling in from the fighting, only a few pausing to give me a nod or raise their hats. My stack of laundry was dwindling when I reached Lieutenant Brewster's tent at the edge of camp. He and my rescuer were laughing about something, both sitting on their beds.

"I believe these belong to you, gentlemen," I interrupted, the two standing up so quickly they nearly knocked their heads together. "Lieutenant Brewster," I said, handing him a yellowing shirt, "and..." I trailed off, holding my rescuers shirt. I realized I didn't actually know his name beyond "Tallboy" and hesitated.

"Miss Elizabeth Crawley, lemme present Major Benjamin Tallmadge." He stiffly bowed as I attempted a sloppy curtsey.

"Major, may I present your clean laundry." Major Tallmadge nodded his thanks. "I never got the chance to thank you for saving me earlier from the thick of that battle. If I can ever repay you, I'd be more than happy, Major."

Caleb started giggling, but I paid it no attention, determining it was just his way. "You give me too much credit, Miss Crawley. It was merely a skirmish in the woods, and any officer would surely have done the same." Caleb huffed at that bit: proof, I guessed, of an exception. "In any case, you're welcome."

"Lieutenant Brewster, thanks for giving me the grand tour," I added, getting a wide expression of surprise from the surly man. "Without your help I might still be out there at the edge of camp without a clue."

He gave me a deep, theatrical bow. "Any time, Lizzie." A satisfied smirk seemed enough to suit him.

\--

Laundry grew monotonous. Without the commotion I was used to at home, I wished for any other task within a week. The other girls were welcoming, even though not particularly bright. They could talk for hours on end, pausing only for a giggle or sigh. It was exhausting to just listen. What did I care about so-and-so's gossip about which officer winked at who or what the latest fashion from Philadelphia was? For a spy, I had an extraordinary case of selective hearing.

My only comforts were mealtimes and delivering clean laundry. When he was in camp, Lieutenant Brewster would wave me over to wherever he and Major Tallmadge were eating dinner. It was weird, this concept of having friends who looked out for me. But I certainly wasn't complaining. The two of them would often rant through dinner, albeit guarded and at times cryptic. After their rants came the Lieutenant's horrid jokes that were so stupid and crude, I couldn't help but laugh in the obnoxious way I did.

On one of those entertaining late Summer nights, the fire crackling, sending up sparks that would turn into stars in the deep ocean of the sky, that I felt homesick. After days of traveling and adjusting to military life, I finally felt my heart ache for my mother and siblings. Much to my chagrin, in the middle of one of Major Tallmadge's complaints about the few rebellious souls who dared publicly oppose His Excellency in camp and Congress, his words, not mine, I found myself in tears. One silently, slowly, wound its way down my cheek in the most picturesque way possible, before dozen more flooded down. turning around mid-pace, the Major saw me and froze. His left hand on his hip under his blue jacket and his right still held indignantly in the air, his face immediately fell from frustration to sympathy. "Miss Crawley?" Caleb spun around from his seat on top of a barrel.

I wiped my cheeks with my hands as my two friends came to my side, demanding to know what had caused me to suddenly be so upset. It would be no good to snivel about missing home in the middle of camp, I decided, so I stood. Miraculously, we were among the outskirts of the small campfires still going, and I could slip away undetected. The Major and Lieutenant followed me. Without even looking, I could see them exchanging worried glances behind me. We found ourselves at their tent, and Major Tallmadge lifted the canvas flap to enter into the thick darkness. Caleb managed to light something somehow, casting the interior in a pale, pure light. "You alright Lizzie girl?" By now the wave of tears had gone, leaving me red faced, stuffy nosed, and awfully quiet.

Nodding, I wiped my nose and upper lip on the back of my hand. Both men directed for me to sit on Major Tallmadge's bed, the one on the right side of the tent, as they sat on Lieutenant Brewster's. They looked almost comical, sitting there with concern displayed so clearly on their faces. I looked from the Major's furrowed brow and kneading hands to the Lieutenant's open mouth and kind eyes before answering. "I don't now what came over me, I suppose I'm just homesick." I never thought I'd actually miss that place, but I did find myself longing for the familiarity of my small town.

My friends looked so relieved. Major Tallmadge urged, "Tell us about it. Your home, I mean." Lieutenant Brewster obviously rolled his eyes, nearly making me laugh.

I didn't know where to start, but it came trickling out soon enough. "It's not much of a town, we've got no aristocrats or politicians or anybody, but we've got some plain farmers and trades-folk who are nice enough. Most everything's made out of plain old wood, save the church. We lived off to the side, on the water with a little clearing and a patch for cabbages and potatoes. That's where my mum and siblings are." With a tip of the head that was meant as a half hearted excuse for a shrug, I wiped my nose again.

\--

She was hunched forward, her thin frame seeming to fold into itself from her shoulders. She looked like she wasn't taking herself seriously, like her problems weren't worth of taking up anyone's time. 

"Sounds like a spittin' image of Setauket, don't it Tallboy?" came my boisterous friend beside me, tearing my calculative gaze from Miss Crawley to Caleb.

"Indeed." Neither of us realized how much we missed the gentle sloping roads and air filled with the welcoming sting of sea salt of home until we saw her describing her little town. "We've got this little white church up on a hill that looks out over the town to the water and with gravestones out back."

"And packed dirt roads leading to the tavern an' the dock an' the market. Lizzie, you should see the size of some of those fish we can pull outa there!"

"The magistrate, easily the wealthiest man in town, lives off by the woods in a big white house. With huge fireplaces and at least one painting he claims is the pride of Long Island."

"Yeah, but his food's no better than Selah's ever was." Caleb accentuated his love for the old tavern and its beer with a pointed finger. "The best pint I've ever had: Strong Tavern."

As we went back and forth about our home town, Miss Crawley's eyes grew wide, her smile deepened, and she tucked her feet up on my blanket, gently resting her head on my flattened pillow, golden curls against the filthy case. Caleb and I went on for what could have been eons about our fondest memories of home and our friends, choosing to leave out that Major Hewlett had taken over and our best friend was arrested for spying, the little shite. Stifling our laughter to keep from waking up the entire camp, we reminisced about wading with Abe and Anna when we were kids, the adventures we would have in the churchyard while my father worked, or the time Judge Woodhull nearly killed Abe when we home covered in bruises and tracking dirt, leaves, and pine needles on the expensive carpet.

When we finally exhausted our reserve of stories for the night and decided it was time to sleep, I moved to my bed, only to discover Miss Crawley had fallen asleep while we were talking. With a pat on the shoulder and a finger to my lips, I shushed Caleb as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and trousers for the night. I silently motioned that I would take the ground between the beds and took his wool blanket.

\--

I woke to the same, filtered sunlight I had grown so used to, but when I turned over, I discovered Major Tallmadge sleeping across the tent from me rather than Mrs Morris and Mrs Puckett. He looked strange asleep. He was still in his waistcoat, his cravat lying carelessly over the back of the only chair in the tent. He looked younger and more relaxed, tufts of hair falling across his face and pushed up onto his pillow. Caleb was no where to be found, but that didn't bother me. He seemed to come and go as he pleased, leading me to question how we was ever promoted from Private.

I stretched and turned onto my stomach, facing the tent wall instead of the Major. Attempting to lull myself back to sleep, if only for a few moments, I was startled upright by a rather obnoxious entrance to the tent.

"Miss Crawley, to my office. Now." General Washington seethed. My complexion must have turned countless shades of red as I quickly stood and left the tent, aided by the General's man servant. Behind me, the Major was pulling on his uniform and begging for a chance to explain, but General Washington left without hearing him out.

The man servant attempted to look me over without my noticing. Attempted. He looked concerned and nearly scared of me, but that could have been because my arms were folded and I was scowling. Once we got back to the General's tent, he offered me a seat and I graciously took it, still crossing my arms tightly. General Washington entered with an angry flourish as he strode directly to the other side. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand a fist on his hip. "How am I to believe you wish to spy for  _my army_   when I find you sleeping with -"

I cut him off. It was risky, but I knew I had to prove myself. "With your head of intelligence?" He spun around with a stare of frustration, surprise, and unbelief. "Don't worry, sir, he didn't tell me. I figured it out myself. Sometimes, without meaning to, sir, I overhear Major Tallmadge and Lieutenant Brewster talking and they replace some people and places with numbers, which sounds to me like some kind of code. I haven't even tried cracking it yet, sir, although they do bring up 711 and 722 a lot. When the two of them are speaking more plainly, they are slightly more guarded in their word choice than the other officers." I suddenly had a revelation. "Lieutenant Brewster is rarely in camp. That could make him a... courier or spy or something. And any Lieutenant who can just walk into the Commander-in-Chief's headquarters must be someone special." General Washington's eyes tightened. I looked proudly back at him until he dropped his eyes and attention to some papers on his desk.

"Miss Crawley, are Lieutenant Brewster and Major Tallmadge aware that you know of their positions?" He flicked his glance back up to mine expectantly.

"I don't believe, sir. And I would like to keep it that way, for the time being." The General nodded in agreement.

He switched topics. "How many dresses do you own, Miss Crawley?" I shyly looked down at my loose grey short gown and dusty old pink petticoat hanging limply from my frame without proper padding or extra petticoats.

"Just this and the green dress in which we met, sir." I could tell that wasn't something he wanted to hear. "That won't do, will it?"

He nibbled the inside of his lip. "No." he trailed off. Turning to his manservant, he commanded, "William, please go send for Major Tallmadge." The man bowed before leaving the tent. General Washington was scribbling something on a piece of paper and searching around in a drawer for something.

"General Washington, sir," I ventured, "Major Tallmadge and I, we didn't actually -"

"I figured as much. Major Tallmadge is a passionate officer, but I doubt he would betray his morals so quickly." He was rummaging through several drawers as he spoke, nearly under his breath. "Son of a clergyman." I nodded. William, the manservant, returned with the blond officer. "Major," he started, without looking up, "Take Miss Crawley and this note into town to the seamstress." The General offered a note wrapped around some paper and coin currency to Major Tallmadge, his eyes still on his desk.

The Major looked confused, and tried to stammer an apology as he took the bundle. "Sir, I'm sorry about last night and this morning and any confusion or judgement you may have made. I would never violate Miss Crawley or any other woman like that..." He trailed off with the dismissive wave of the General's hand. "Thank you." The Major offered a short bow before leaving, holding the flap of tent open as I ducked out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! It has taken a while to get this chapter up, as you may have noticed. Unfortunately, with school and everything else starting up, chapters will be posted more sporadically. Do not fear! There are at least twenty more chapters planned out that I'm super excited to share with you.

We wound our way into some nondescript Pennsylvania town, over cobbled streets. This time, I was perched sideways behind Major Tallmadge’s saddle, in a much more ladylike fashion. The seamstress’s shop was marked with a dark green sign and white lettering out front. It was much fancier than any I’d ever seen, even with its uneven windows and faded paint. Major Tallmadge helped me down before tying up his horse.

“I’m so sorry to have caused you all that trouble, Major,” I apologized to his back. He shook his head, the plume of his dragoon helmet swishing back and forth ever so slightly.

“Nonsense,” He protested, unbuckling his helmet and tucking it under his arm, “If anything, we’ll say it was Caleb’s fault.” The hint of a smirk was the only indication of a joke, and I skeptically nodded back.

“Thank you, sir.” I responded both to his accusation of Lieutenant Brewster and for opening the door with a creak.

We entered the small store to be greeted by the overwhelming scent of lavender and an apprentice not much older than myself. Major Tallmadge was totally out of his element as he walked up to the girl and handed her the small package with bewilderment spread across his features. She read the note and invited me behind a folded screen, introducing herself as Lydia.

“This could take at least three hours, sir,” she meekly pointed out to the Major.

He looked even more flustered. “Of course. I’ll come back then.” After lingering a moment, Major Tallmadge awkwardly left, getting a soft giggle from the mantua maker.

Lydia helped me undress and took down my matted hair as she quietly started explaining. “We rarely get soldiers in here. I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a military order before, but we should be able to manage what you need.” My short gown and petticoats in a pile on the floor, Lydia’s lilac eyes widened at the state of my stays. The morning before, I had sloppily and loosely tightened the browning, fraying stays with the boning poking through. Lydia apparently thought it was horrendous. In that headache-inducing dress shop, with corals, aquas, peaches, florals, and embroideries everywhere, I began to see just how out of place and fashion I was.

“Is there enough money for a new pair of stays?” I questioned.

Still blinking in surprise, Lydia responded slowly. “I’ll go check, miss.”

Three hours later I was bedecked in modest panniers, linen stays, and a simple round gown made of Continental blue wool. It was cut much lower than I would’ve liked, showing off too much of my non-existent bosom, but I would wear my standard creme kerchief around camp. As Lydia was finishing pinning my hair back up, the door opened. She disappeared around the screen to greet the customer.

Lydia’s head popped back around, “Your escort to see you, miss.” I could hardly breath my stays were laced so tightly, but I made my way around to where Major Tallmadge stood waiting. An expression of mild interest from the officer.

“Didn’t know I could look so feminine, did you Major?” I teased. He rolled his eyes.

Thanking Lydia and collecting the change for General Washington, Ben and I left. We had a few hours to kill, at most, so the Major decided we could stay in town.

\--

On my adventures during Miss Crawley’s appointment, I discovered a bookstore just down the street. Praying to the good Lord Almighty she wasn’t as disinterested as Caleb, I decided to take her there. We both inhaled big gulps of the aroma of books, sending Miss Crawley into a giggling fit, or as much as she could manage in her new dress.

I didn’t have time to read, but evidently Miss Crawley thought she did, given how she practically jumped up and down, peering at every title on each shelf. She was right. I had never seen her so ‘feminine’. Her blonde waves were no longer a mess, her hem wasn’t thread bare or stained, and she looked so small. Miss Crawley was shorter than me by only inches, the top of her head at my eye level, but she was unhealthily thin. “Major!” She excitedly exclaimed. “It’s my favorite book.” I strode over to where she stood, her thick, calloused fingers clutching a copy of Shakespeare’s Othello.

“I wouldn’t have picked you to be a reader of tragedies, Miss Crawley.”

“They’re just as important and entertaining as comedies or romances, Major Tallmadge. Tragedies, if you pay attention, are full of hope.” She paused, studying me with her dark green eyes. “That is until they delve into the horrors of the human soul.” Her eyes widened with the mention of the soul, like she was telling a ghost story.

I exhaled sharply with a smirk, meaning it as a laugh, and located a green spine to pry off of the shelf. “This is my favorite.”

Miss Crawley laughed out loud, until she realized she might come across as rude. “Romeo and Juliet?”

“What?” I good naturedly replied, “What’s wrong with Romeo and Juliet?”

“Are you a romantic, Major?” Miss Crawley challenged with comical, wagging eyebrows and a joking poke at my waistcoat.

“No, I’m a soldier, Miss Crawley. I need hope and a sign that there is some reward in death,” I argued as we left the bookshop under stern looks from the owner.

“From what I know of the plot, I don’t see much heroism or hope. They are two young teenagers unable to cope with the possibility of being alone. That isn’t hope, Major, that’s an immature flaw.” Miss Crawley’s pessimistic view of the plot certainly wasn’t new to me, after having had this same debate at Yale.

“Shakespeare’s works may be interpreted several ways,” I insisted. “I prefer to think of it as two lovers in such terrible circumstances that they would rather be together in death than have to live apart.” I had an optimistic and naive insight, I’d been told, but that wasn’t enough to stop me. It was only a play, after all. Miss Crawley studied me sideways from under thin eyebrows. She plainly showed she didn’t know what to do with me, and I quite frankly didn’t know what to do with her. Around camp, with Caleb and I, Miss Crawley seemed nearly as boisterous and nonchalant as anyone else, not unlike my best friend. But here. Here on the Pennsylvania cobbled street, arguing about literature and inspecting fresh strawberries from a farmer’s cart, she was so different.

I gave in, buying a bunch of berries for her. “Never had fresh strawberries ‘fore,” she confessed as she bit into one, her eyes lighting up.

Between the book and millinery shops was a roughly cut wooden bench, overlooking a small stream. I gestured for Miss Crawley to sit, pacing down a few yards to place my helmet on my trusty steed. “So,” she started, swallowing another red berry, “Why’d you really rescue me?” When I opened my mouth to speak, she interrupted. “Major Tallmadge, please don’t give me another painfully standard answer about being an officer. I know not everyone would pick up a strange woman in the forest.” She was right.

“Miss Crawley,” I began, hoping to sort out my words from my emotions for once. “Back at Yale, I had a friend named Nathan. Nathan Hale of Connecticut. We taught together after school.” This was where it got hard. My eyes focused on the far stones in the street. “We both joined the Army. He was an excellent soldier, but, he volunteered for an intelligence mission, was captured, and hanged.” Miss Crawley looked sympathetic, but still confused at what this had to do with her rescue. “Captain Hale was one of the best men I’ve ever known, Miss Crawley. He always seemed to know wrong from right, even when it was a stupid decision to spy in New York. I’ve always tried to be more like him, especially after…” I trailed off, losing momentum. “I want him to be proud of me.”

She was silent. She was thinking. That was a dangerous enough prospect.

\--

“Major,” I softly asserted. “Thank you, both for saving me and for telling me this. Had I’ve known it was such a private story, I wouldn’t have asked.” His shoulders slumped, revealing the civilian side to his soldier’s demeanor. “If I might make a suggestion?”

Major Tallmadge looked up at me briefly with a sloppy nod. “This Captain Hale sounds amazing, if he’s even half the man you build him up to be. However, you don’t need to be anyone else, Major. Captain Hale, I should like to think, has more than enough reason to be proud of you.” He wasn’t looking up. Way to blow your first friendship, Liz. “But everyone has one of those people, I suppose. I didn’t mean it like that.” I grew quieter as I kept talking, realizing that he probably wanted to get back to the loud, impersonal camp.

“Everyone?” He sassily replied. Looking up at me with a stiff eyebrow, he questioned, “Then who’s yours, Miss Crawley, if I may inquire?”

“Well, I don’t have one, Major.” I answered with more confidence. At least he was still talking to me, even if it was a challenge. “I’ve still got time to find someone to make me want to change.”

“I know precious little about the people in your life, Miss Crawley.” The Major’s eyes were still skeptical and more than a little hurt, though the rest of him looked friendly and welcoming as he popped a berry in his mouth.

“There’s really only my family, Major. My Papa, God rest his soul, my Mama, my two sisters, and two brothers.”

“What are their names, Miss Crawley?”

Taking a deep breath, I answered, “For whatever reason, my parents decided it would be a splendid idea to name all of their children after plants.” His eyes finally came near their human glow again. “Rosemary, Chrysanthemum, Sage, and, my youngest brother, Orange.” I finished with a giggle as I picked up another berry.

Major Tallmadge snickered into his sleeve. “And your parents’ names, may I intrude?”

Pink juice dripped down my chin, and I wiped it off with the back of my hand. “Oh, Robert and Olivia, naturally, Major.” I laughed again, dropping my head a few inches, a stray piece of hair falling across my brow.

The Major had a deep, wide smile that I’d only seen hints of in camp. After a few seconds his brow furrowed. “Never heard of the Elizabeth plant.”

About that. “Elizabeth is my middle name, Major. My parents named me Daisy, but I hardly ever use it.” He conceded with a half nod. “I mean, do I look like a Daisy?”

He blinked a few times, the side of his mouth still sewn up in a smirk.

“Shut up.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

General Washington seemed much less frazzled that afternoon. William, as always, stood behind the General as he sat as his large desk. With a silent nod, His Excellency dismissed the silent Major Tallmadge.

“General, I recognize how rehearsed and calculated this may seem to you, but I promise I will do anything: I will pass any test to prove my value and dedication to this cause, sir.” My face contorted with concern as I kneaded my hands behind my back.

“Miss Crawley,” He started, standing to reach his impressive height, “Until you pass such a ‘test,’ you will be serving directly under me. I will come to know your attentiveness, as you will know mine.”

I remained silent, but nodded in response. I was not guilty, but the Commander-in-Chief made me nervous enough to believe any misstep would have me executed.

“This is my manservant, William Lee.” His Excellency gestured to his side, the young man stepping slightly forward, bent in a cordial bow.

“Mr. Lee,” I acknowledged, with as steady of a curtsy as I could manage beneath the weight of a new woolen gown. Both men looked slightly confused at my reference to a slave by his surname and not his first name, but politely chose to ignore it.

“You will be spending most of your time under my direct care with William, as you attend meetings.”

“Yes, sir.” William seemed so quiet, but I also supposed he was used to submitting. It broke my heart to see a human forced to bend to another’s will, but there was nothing I could do.

The General paused a moment, as he often did, and sat down before changing the conversation slightly. “What sort of system did you agree upon with Major Andre?”

“As often as I can, with any excuse and without raising suspicion, I am to take a furlough and spend at least part of that time debriefing the Major at his home in York City. He promised my identity would be kept hidden as much as possible from his fellow officers. I am to arrive, alone, at his back door at some point in August, and his housemaid knows to let me in without questioning.” General Washington only nodded,  his eyes focused on something worlds away.

“Information will be fabricated for you by the middle of August when you will be escorted by William to New York with false papers and given a week to return.”

I took a deep breath, the first of many, I was sure, thanked the General, and left to go find something less life-threatening to fill my time.

\--

I rolled up my short gown and petticoat from this morning and tucked them into my pillowcase. Mrs Morris entered our tent not long after I did, slowly wringing her hands in front of her. “Is anything the matter, Mrs Morris?” I cautiously proceeded.

“Mrs Puckett and Mrs Warren have both left camp,” she paused as I raised my eyebrows the slightest degree. “Corporal Warren was discharged due to his wounds and Private Puckett’s company moved out this morning whilst you were gone.” A tone of bitterness. Thanks.

“I’m sorry I missed them.” I sincerely tried to keep any animosity out of my reply, but I doubt it worked. With slightly narrowed eyes, Mrs. Morris turned to change her apron for a cleaner one. Unpinning my hair, I shook out the blond waves that had been taut against my scalp all day, giving me a small yet constant headache. Twisting it back up into my signature messy bun, I set about pinning it back up again.

As I left the tent, a pin still dangling precariously between my lips, I nearly collided with Lieutenant Brewster, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Pardon me,” I apologized to his satisfied smirk and glowing eyes. “Lieutenant Brewster, are you quite alright?”

“Benny said you’d look like a paintin’ but I had to see it fer myself.” He draped a solid arm around my shoulders and directed me off in the general direction of his own tent.

I mused over that first bit, at least until Caleb, obviously a few pints deep, made some loud, largely inappropriate joke, bending me in half with laughter.

\--

A week or so later, a handful of young, spirited officers along with a few older, seasoned men looking to return to their former glory were crammed into General Washington’s tent. Major Tallmadge and another dragoon officer stood in the corner, listening, yet out of the way. Mr Lee, two of the General’s aides-de-camp, and I stood together behind the general at a respectful distance.

As Washington was beginning the meeting, his knuckles resting on the curling edge of a roughly drawn map, one of the aides quietly leaned over to introduce himself and his friend. “Miss, allow me to present Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens,” a nod as the paler man peeked his head out, “and myself, Captain Alexander Hamilton, of the artillery. Pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a flower as yourself, m’lady.” He cocked an eyebrow in a particularly flirtatious move. “I’m so pleased to finally have some attractive company out in this desolate wasteland of war.” A discreet glare from the Commander-in-Chief over his shoulder and what appeared to be an elbowing from Lieutenant Laurens straightened Captain Hamilton up again. Mr Lee shook his head to me on my other side, as if in a plea for me to pay them no mind.

“What business do you exactly have in such a war counsel anyways, Miss? You hardly, excuse my bluntness, seem to be the sort to enjoy dry, speculative talk by a room, or tent rather, of stuffy old officers, most of whom aren’t even that dashing.” Lieutenant Laurens pulled Captain Hamilton’s sleeve in a feeble attempt at getting him to shut up about complimenting himself, but the Captain of the Artillery quieted him with the gentle touch of a gloved hand on his fingers. Major Tallmadge shot me a sympathetic look from across the table while Mr Lee pretended that the two aides did not exist.

“Captain Hamilton, I am simply,” I paused as I chose my words carefully, both to protect myself and the General, “working for General Washington, as a second William Lee. A second set of hands, eyes, or ears, if you will.” He mulled it over, clear blue eyes rolling towards his forehead and tan hair, his chin dropping to accentuate his high cheekbones. Mr Lee cleared his throat, moving his head to indicate the consulting men were getting to something important.

“Our British adversaries have exchanged their main commander for another and recalled their men to their base in New York,” stated the General, sliding metal pieces across the map, “despite our best efforts at Monmouth.” His lips twitched up absentmindedly in Major Tallmadge’s general direction, the latter man drawing himself up a bit taller. “They hold most of Connecticut and Rhode Island. If we attack one of these two places, we chance a counterattack from either York City, Manhattan, or Long Island.” More sliding of metal. “However, gentlemen, there is a French fleet nearby, that could be of some service.” The General turned to a young man with delicate features and more ornate uniform, though still in standard Continental blue. “Is this still correct, Marquis?”

The young man in question stiffly nodded before responding, “Yes, my General,” in a thick European accent.

General Washington’s face shone with hope. “Where do you suggest we attack?” He opened up to look every man in the face. A few men offered Long Island or Loyalist strongholds like Litchfield, but the General or another officer would shoot it down with pile of evidence for certain failure.

“Newport.” Major Tallmadge, from out of the blue. “Rhode Island.” He courteously shouldered his way into the inner circle of officers. “It’s an island, beyond the point of Long Island where the French can approach with the chance of going undetected by the British in New York. Our forces can swing around near Massachusetts, we meet the French, and take control of Rhode Island.”

The men looked at one another while the Major caught his breath. I smiled proudly at him, receiving a curt nod in return. “This information does not leave this room. Meet tomorrow night and we will discuss a more detailed battle plan. I do not wish to keep my men from nourishment.” General Washington ended with a smile.

Major Tallmadge lagged behind a moment when he saw that I made no move to follow the men out, but instead stayed with the aides-de-camp and manservant. I gestured my head in the direction of the tent flap with a smile, urging him not to worry.

In the mostly emptied tent, I heard a plea, “Sir, entrust me with command! I can lead a battalion of men if you only give me chance to prove myself in the field! I promise on my life and position and everything I own, which, granted, is not much, yet I still wager it, that I will not let you down, Your Excellency. In any case I will not be as big of a failure and damned poltroon as General Lee in his attack, if it can even be called such, at Monmouth!” The General silenced Captain Hamilton with a pointed glare.

“Captain. This is neither the time nor the place. We, as you so eloquently noted earlier, have a lady in our midst.” His Excellency seethed, although he seemed to do it more out of tired duty than anger. Turning his attention to me, he spoke in a milder tone, “Miss Crawley, have you been formally introduced to Lieutenant Laurens as of yet?” I curtsied at the gentleman now standing in the corner with Mr Lee.

“A pleasure, Miss,” he responded with the hint of a South Carolina drawl. General Washington dismissed all three men, the Captain still running his mouth and up in arms, yet maintaining a certain tenderness towards the Lieutenant.

“A week's furlough?” The General entered into a completely different conversation the moment the flap shut behind his manservant. I nodded. “So far as you know, which British intelligence should have an idea of already, we are launching our main attack on York City itself. Your cover, although risky, is your life. You are traveling north to care for your ill mother. At least in York City you will have Major Andre’s credibility to aid you. Good luck, Miss Crawley, though God knows you'll need more than that.”

\--

The warmth of the fire radiated to my face and exposed neck through the chilling summer night. I stared into the flames, the last jubilant laughs from a joke fading, only to be brought up again by another group of soldiers, several yards away. Caleb sat next to me, even deeper into yet another pint, although he seemed almost sober. I got the feeling he was just perpetually drunk. Glancing up across the fire, I saw Major Tallmadge give me a slight shy smile before turning his attention to the alcohol in his own tankard.

Caleb spoke animatedly to another whaler and a friendly native, while the Major sat with a handful of fellow dragoons conversing in low, reserved tones. Of the other women, some had already retired, but most stayed out with their husbands and walked around in groups, flirting or enjoying the increasingly cooling night air. I felt alone, but not lonely.

The shadow of a figure suddenly blocked out the orangey hues cackling in front of me, breaking me free of my thoughts. “Miss Crawley,” a more than slightly intoxicated Major Tallmadge stood before me, his defined features coming into view as the spots from looking into the fire for too long left my eyes. “Allow me the pleasure of walking you back to your tent.”

I stood, preferring to look directly into his eyes than craning my neck. “Do I really look that unwell, Major?” He offered a short, quiet chuckle and extended his arm, allowing me to step over the log I had been sitting on before he followed.

Once we left the congregations of soldiers and camp followers we were silent. The Major and I slowly meandered our way towards my quarters, our hands nonchalantly behind our backs. I attempted to discreetly observe his starlight-sprinkled uniform, his eyelashes throwing moonlight. I’d known the man for weeks, but had never really taken the time to get acquainted with his walk or stance. One moment I would confidently have his bearing and face engraved on my mind, and the next, I would see him in a different light, or making a face when he thought no one was watching, completely changing his composition in my head. Even through his slightly inebriated stagger, Major Tallmadge still had a confident grip on the hilt of his sword and a swagger in his step that exuded sheer power and control.

“Major, thank you for escorting me across camp, although I do believe I could have managed it myself.” He seemed startled back to reality as a soft blush spread across his cheeks and nose.

“You never know what you’ll encounter at dusk, Miss Crawley, even in Washington’s camp.” He said matter of factly. “Are you okay?”

Apparently, to answer my question from earlier, I did look that miserable. I smiled, with a nod, to encourage good thoughts before I gave answer. “Indeed. I was granted a furlough to visit my mother and siblings. Mum needs any help she can get, and while I am excited, I am nervous about the journey and if I will be able to return. Once I see my brothers and sisters, I fear I won’t want to come back, Major Tallmadge.” My thumb worked into my palm, unable to look him in the eye as I partially lied. He nearly interrupted me.

“Miss Crawley, please call me by my first name. It would feel much more comfortable for the both of us.”

“I fear I won’t return, Benjamin,” I dragged it out. The pink on his face had deepened to a blush completely brought on by alcohol.

“Would you like me to escort you? I’m sure I can find a few dragoons to spare.” His brow furrowed in what appeared to be sincere, sober concern.

“Thank you, but the General’s manservant will be seeing me safely past York City.” We were near my tent now, squinting at the fires and stars in a moment of awkward still.

“Goodnight, Miss Crawley,” Ben finally forced out. “Please consider returning to us, and find Lieutenant Brewster or I when you do.” He lifted his hand almost to my face and paused. “May I touch you?”

I nodded consent, trusting him even though he was clearly under some brew’s influence. He, with surprising lightness for his condition, caressed my chin with his fingertips, holding my head in place as he neatly brushed his lips between my eyes. All too soon, the heat of his skin was merely a ghost.

“Goodnight, Maj- Benjamin. Goodnight Benjamin.” I left him with a sad smile as I ducked into the canvas walls behind me.

Mrs Morris sat on the edge of her bed, braiding her crimson locks. “What in hell was that about?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, it's been a while! Life is still pretty hectic, so it may be a while for the next chapter, unfortunately. Enjoy, and get ready for a trip into New York in Chapter Five!


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